Shadow of Myself
by laoisbabe
Summary: Walt's morning plans are undone by an unexpected act of vengeance. Will his life change as a result? Story of angst.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/n - this story was written after Season 3 finale. Season 4 was not yet released. Its a stand alone story and I hope you like it.**_

 **Chapter 1**

Sheriff Walt Longmire was getting ready to go home. It had been a quiet day in the Absaroka County Sheriff's Office and he had been grateful for that. Things had been extra busy ever since they had lost Branch Connally a few months earlier.

Branch had resigned shortly after shooting his father in self-defense after Barlow had tried to kill him. Naturally, it had hit him hard. Branch had been traumatized enough having being shot by David Ridges. Having to deal with his friends and family thinking he was going crazy and then having to kill his father had taken its toll. Walt actually felt sorry for the young deputy. That fateful night, Barlow had managed to wing Branch with shotgun pellets, but the younger Connally had reacted a fraction quicker and had blasted his father in the chest, killing him instantly. It was a horrific experience for the young deputy. He was still having difficulty sleeping and dealing with everything that had happened.

Walt had been on his way to see Jacob Nighthorse when he had heard the shots echo through the valley. He had planned to exact his revenge on Jacob Nighthorse who he was convinced had been responsible for his wife's death, but Branch's panicked call to him over the radio following the shooting had stopped him from committing what would have been career suicide, not to mention a huge mistake. Walt was grateful that Branch's personal tragedy had stopped him from doing something he would have soon come to regret. But he was deeply sorry when he considered the price the young man had been forced to pay.

Following an official interview with Branch after the shooting, Walt was shocked to discover that Barlow Connally was ultimately responsible for the death of his beloved Martha. He found it difficult to understand why and struggled with the fact that Jacob Nighthorse appeared innocent, but he would never truly understand the motives behind her death. Her murder was the definition of senseless. As a result, Branch wasn't the only one struggling. It was taking Walt a little time to deal with the fall out as well.

Having been the subject of a federal investigation and cleared of any wrong-doing, Branch had inherited his father's fortune and was working each day to put his life back together. He had decided to try and do some good with his inheritance instead of wreaking havoc on the environment like his father used to. As he came to terms with the eruption of his life, he and Cady had also re-ignited their relationship.

For Walt, it was a strange situation. His daughter was seeing the son of the man who murdered her mother. He hoped that someday he could get that depiction out of his mind and be happy for them. After all, it wasn't Branch's doing. He, too, was an injured party in all this. Walt knew he should not blame his former deputy for what his father did. Slowly, Walt was coming to terms with the fact that his beloved daughter had a new man in her life and his role too was changing. So much was changing.

However, Walt was doing his best to keep as much normality in his life as he could. He got up and went to work every morning and stuck to his routine as much as he could. It was the only way he could get through each day. And to add to the pressure he was under, he was now a deputy short. Vic and Ruby had been on his back to replace Branch for weeks now so he had finally lined up a few candidates for interview for the following day.

"I'm off," he said to Ruby as he reached for his hat and coat from the coat stand.

"Don't forget, first candidate is at 9.30 in the morning," she reminded him. "Don't be late."

He smiled at her.

"I'll be here, Ruby," he replied in his deep, dulcet tone.

He headed down the stairs and outside. Dusk was descending. He climbed into his Bronco and drove home to his remote log cabin in the valley. He threw his hat on the side board, removed his gun and holster, cracked open a can of Rainier from the fridge and took a large, well-earned mouthful. He put a match to the log fire which he had left set in the fireplace before he had left for work that morning. The evenings were growing colder now as winter closed in and the open fire warmed the cabin.

He found he missed Martha more those long, dark evenings. He missed her welcoming him home with a cooked meal and the fire already glowing. He missed their conversations, her smile and her sense of humor. Mostly, he missed her warmth in their bed at night. He found that ever since he had decided to let her go, to accept her loss, he missed her even more.

He had managed to keep his feelings for Vic in check for the last few months. There was no denying he had affections for her, but he felt nothing but guilt for feeling them. He still felt as though he was betraying Martha. He knew Vic reciprocated his feelings, but neither of them had acted on them. Even now after Sean and Vic had divorced, Walt and Vic were tip-toeing around their feelings. Walt knew he wasn't ready and Vic sensed that was the case.

He sat in front of the fire, which was now crackling, and relaxed as night fell. He fell asleep in the chair in front of the fire as he often did and woke after midnight with a start. The embers of the fire glowed in the hearth. He stood and sloped off to his bedroom, removed his jeans and shirt and fell into his bed, grateful for the comfort it offered.

He woke at his usual time the next morning and looked out across the valley. It was a sharp, cold morning with a light frost glistening on the grass, but the sky was clear. It was a perfect morning for a ride. He made coffee, poured it into a Thermos, pulled on his sheepskin jacket, grabbed his rifle and headed down to the barn in which his horse was stabled. He saddled him up, put his Thermos in the saddle bag, slid his rifle into its sheath and mounted.

He headed out at a canter across the plain towards the foothills like he did most mornings. He found the ride cleared his head and lifted the weight of the world from his shoulders. It was the only therapy he needed. Sometimes he rode up to where he had scattered Martha's ashes just to feel close to her for a little while.

This was one of those mornings. He had a couple of hours to kill before he was due at the office. He felt alive and free as he cantered up the hill and into the woods, savoring the fresh, crisp morning air. He reached the higher plain where he had scattered her ashes and looked around and paused to remember the intimate times he and his wife had shared up there.

He dismounted and poured some coffee. He sat on the grass and talked to her for a short while as if she was there. He told her what was on his mind, about his confusion in relation to Vic and his mixed feelings about their daughter's new relationship. As the sun rose higher in the morning sky, he checked his watch and decided that it was time to make his way back to make sure he was on time for his first interview of the morning. He emptied his coffee cup into the grass, closed up the Thermos and remounted. This time he galloped across the plain until he reached the line of pine trees. He slowed his horse to an easy walk as they navigated through the narrow tree-lined path.

As they rounded a large rocky outcrop, a teenage boy stepped into their path, giving both Walt and his horse a start.

"Woah," Walt said, gathering the reins as the horse skittered. "Easy boy."

"Hey, Mister," the kid said casually.

"Hey, yourself," Walt said curious as to what this kid was doing out there. "You alone out here?" he asked glancing around.

"Nah, my Mom is back at our campsite," he told him.

"Oh. Okay. Well, it isn't safe for a kid to be out alone in these parts," Walt told him. "There are bears and wolves around. What's your name?" Walt asked.

"Derek," the kid replied. He looked over Walt's shoulder at something higher up in the rocks and smiled an unsettling smile. Walt turned slightly in his saddle to see what the kid was looking at.

That was when a single shot rang out. It felt like a sledgehammer had hit Walt in the back as the bullet struck and he slumped forward against his horse's neck. The horse was startled by the sound and bolted. Walt managed to cling on for a few meters, but was thrown as the horse suddenly turned to the left. He landed with a thump on the rocky ground and blacked out momentarily.

When he came to, he found himself lying on his back, staring up at the tree canopy desperately trying to get oxygen into his lungs. It hurt like hell to breathe and he knew his lung had been hit. As he lay there the boy stepped into his line of vision once more and smiled down at him with a twisted grin.

"Derek Gilbert," he said, making sure Walt knew who he was. "And the crack shot who just killed you, Sheriff, is my mom, Ida. You might remember her…and my dad, Chance, the man you murdered."

The name registered with Walt immediately. Chance Gilbert was the survivalist who had kidnapped Vic and Sean several months back. He cursed himself for not recognizing the boy. His mom came down from the rocks where she had been hiding and stood over Walt. She waved the barrel of her rifle at his face and looked him straight in the eyes.

"What do you think, Derek? Between the eyes?" she asked menacingly.

"Do it, Mom," the kid replied enthusiastically.

"You know, finishing him off would be too kind, Son. He deserves to suffer and die out here like the dog he is," she said cruelly laughing at Walt's attempts to draw air into his lungs.

She knelt down and checked his pockets for a cell phone and weapons. No cell phone, but she took his .45 and his knife and threw them out of reach.

"See you in hell, Sheriff," she said as she and her son turned and walked away, leaving him to die in the dirt.

Walt coughed as blood filled his throat. He knew he had to get off his back if he was to ensure he didn't choke. He rolled onto his injured side and coughed again, this time expelling quite a bit of blood from his trachea. The movement was agonizing and he was close to passing out, but he knew if he did, he wasn't going to wake up.

He managed to drag himself to the nearest tree and sat and leaned against it. With trembling hands, he gingerly opened his heavy jacket and pulled up his shirt to reveal an ugly looking exit wound just below his rib cage. It was bleeding heavily and he knew his priority had to be to stop that. He noticed his knife laying in the dirt a few meters away and wondered if he could get to it.

Pressing his right hand tightly into the wound, he used his left had to slowly drag himself on his side along the dirt path towards his knife. After several agonizing minutes he was within arm's reach of it. He made one last grab for it before collapsing on his side gasping for breath. It took several minutes to recover enough from the exertion to be able to sit back up and lean back against a fallen log. His vision was blurring and he knew it was likely he would lose consciousness soon.

He used his knife to cut a piece of cloth from his shirt. Then using the cleanest piece of the cloth he packed it into the open wound. The pain was excruciating and it brought black spots before his eyes. He squeezed them closed momentarily until the pain eased. Then he rooted in his inside jacket pocket and came out with a book of matches. He peeled some dried moss and peeling bark from the log he was leaning against and picked some twigs and pine cones from within arm's reach and used them to start a small fire.

Once there was a flame, he held the blade of his knife over the flame until it glowed hot. Then, taking as deep a breath as his wounded body would allow, he pressed the red hot metal against the wound and screamed aloud as it sizzled on his skin, cauterizing the wound. Then his peripheral vision began closing in. He slumped to one side unconscious.

 _ **A/n - hope you like the first chapter. Feedback always welcome.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/n - thanks to everyone who has read and commented on this story. Hope I don't of course I should have added a disclaimer at the start of this story, that none of the characters belong to me. Just borrowing them for fun.**_

 **Chapter 2**

Walt was still unconscious when his horse returned to the spot where he lay. The animal nuzzled him and scratched the ground around him, but got no reaction from Walt. The horse lost interest after a few minutes of being ignored and left his owner and trotted off in the direction of Walt's property.

About an hour later in the Sheriff's office, Ruby was growing impatient.

"I swear, someday I'll kill that man," she said to the Ferg, obviously annoyed. "I don't know how many times I reminded him yesterday that he had to be here this morning...and still he couldn't manage it."

She sat down to the radio.

"Walter, pick up. Walt! You're late. You better be on your way because your first appointment is here already," she said sounding irate. "Walter!"

"He's still not answering?" Ferg asked, sounding surprised.

Vic arrived to work and noticed the guy sitting outside the office door looking nervous.

"Is Walt interviewing already?" she asked.

"No, not yet," Ruby answered crossly. "He hasn't even turned up and I can't raise him on the radio."

"Have you tried his house?" she asked, her curiosity peaked.

"I tried calling a few times," Ferg told her. "I keep getting the machine."

"Are you worried?" she asked Ruby who was unable to hide her concern.

"Yes, I am. He knew the interviews were this morning and I know he intended to be here. I'm afraid something's happened," Ruby told her.

"I'm sure it's nothing, but I'll drive out to his place to check it out if it makes you feel better. Maybe check with Cady or Henry? They might have seen him," Vic said, turning around and heading for the door. "Interview's been postponed," she said to the unfortunate young man sitting outside Walt's office. "We'll call you."

Vic drove out to Walt's cabin and was surprised to see the Bronco parked outside. The hairs stood on the back of her neck and she immediately sensed something was amiss. She jumped out of her SUV and ran into the cabin, calling out his name.

"Walt! Walt! You here?"

Everything seemed normal, but Walt was nowhere to be seen.

She came back out of the cabin and scanned the property. She called out his name again as she jogged down to the barn, but still there was no sign of him. She noticed that his horse was gone also. Then she remembered that he habitually went riding in the morning. Only then did it occur to her that he may have had an accident on the mountain.

She ran to the SUV and called Ruby on the radio.

"Ruby, it's Vic. Come in," she said with a sense of urgency in her voice.

"Yeah, Vic. Any sign of him?"

"No, Ruby. His truck is here, but his horse is gone. I think you're right. Something's wrong," she told her.

The words had just left her mouth when she saw something in the distance. She strained to see and waited until she was sure.

"Ruby, hold on. I'll call you back."

Vic ran to the paddock fence and looked out at the approaching animal. It was a dark horse, saddled, but without a rider. Her heart dropped to her boots. She ran into the open plain as the animal approached. She waved her hand to try and slow the frightened animal. He tossed his mane and reared a little before eventually slowing. Vic managed to get a hold of one of the loose reins and steady him.

"Easy, Boy. Woah!" she said as she tried to control him.

She recognized him as Walt's horse. She patted his neck and spoke to him to calm him down and then ran her hand down onto his withers. That was where she felt the stickiness. She removed her hand and examined it and realized that there was blood on her hand. It was difficult to see it on the animal's dark coat, but there was a wound on his neck. Then she noticed that there was blood on the saddle as well.

She felt sick to her stomach realizing that Walt had come upon some sort of trouble. He was most likely hurt and she had no idea where he was. She tied the horse to the fence railing and ran back to the truck.

"Ruby, you there?"

"Still here, Vic. What's going on?"

"Walt's horse has come back, but there's no sign of Walt. And the horse has been injured. Can you get a hold of Henry and send him over here straight away? And we're gonna need a vet for the horse," she said, knowing Walt would want him looked after.

"Okay, Vic. Stay by the radio," Ruby told her.

Ruby was as ever calm and collected in a crisis. That was why Walt liked to keep her around. She was a natural organizer and the foundation stone of his department. She quickly contacted Henry who became very concerned for his friend's well-being after Ruby explained what was going on, especially knowing that Walt would never let anything happen to that horse of his. He left The Red Pony straight away and quickly loaded up his horse trailer with two of his horses with the intention of using them to track where Walt's horse had been.

Cady was called next. She had sensed something was wrong when the Ferg had called earlier that morning, wondering if she had heard from her Dad. Now, her worst fears were confirmed when Ruby rang to tell her that her father was missing.

She jumped in her car and drove at speed out to her father's property to help with the search. When she arrived, there were several other vehicles there already. She found Vic and Henry deep in conversation while looking out over the land and Vic pointing, giving direction. There was another man looking at her Dad's horse.

She approached Henry and Vic who both seemed very worried.

"Hey," she said, trying to muster a smile. "Anything yet?"

"Not yet. I'm about to head out. Vic said the horse came from the east of the valley so I'll head in that direction and try and pick up his tracks. If I can retrace the route he took, I should be able to find Walt," Henry told her.

"Who's that?" Cady asked, pointing to the man tending to the horse.

"That's Matt Gleeson, the vet," Vic told her. She looked at Henry who nodded his head in encouragement. "Cady, the horse has a bullet wound to his neck."

"What? Someone shot his horse?" she asked in disbelief.

"Cady, it's a possibility that someone was shooting at Walt and hit his horse," Henry pointed out.

Cady said nothing for a minute, digested what he had said and then looked at Henry.

"Do you think he's dead?" she asked, barely able to get the words out.

"No," Henry said adamantly. "No, I do not."

Henry unloaded both saddled horses from the trailer.

"I'm coming with you," Cady said when she saw the second horse.

"She's for Walt," Henry said, referring to the chestnut mare he held. "And anyway, you are hardly dressed for riding," Henry said, gesturing at her blouse, short skirt and high heel shoes.

"Give me two minutes," she said, turning towards the cabin and running inside. Within a few minutes she emerged wearing a well-worn pair of jeans, a sweatshirt and a short padded jacket and a pair of ankle high riding boots.

"Let's go," she said, taking the reins of the mare from Henry and leading her into space.

She mounted with ease as her father had ensured that she was a proficient rider from an early age.

"What are we waiting for?" she said to Henry who was standing at the side of his Pinto.

"Find him, Henry," Vic said, holding the halter as Henry mounted.

"I will," he promised.

Meanwhile, on the mountain, Walt woke with a start. He was completely disorientated and wondered why he was lying in the dirt. He tried to get up but his body screamed at him to stop moving. A wave of nausea hit him and he turned his head to one side and threw up violently. Then it all came back to him, the kid, the woman. He looked down at his stomach and checked his wound. It was red raw, blistered and oozing blood, but the bleeding had slowed, at least externally. His mouth tasted of blood. He was thirsty, he realized, very thirsty. He shivered as a sudden chill overcame him. His body was going into shock. He was cold but perspiring and, judging from the stains on his clothing and the dirt, had lost quite an amount of blood.

He knew he wouldn't survive very long without medical attention. At that point, reality and fevered dreams were difficult to differentiate. As Walt lay slumped against the tree stump, he could have sworn his beloved Martha was standing over him, tending to him.

"I'll be with you soon, my love," he whispered to her.

She shook her head and knelt beside him.

"It's not your time, Walter," she told him. "Our daughter needs you. You cannot leave her alone, not like this. They're coming, my dear. You just need to be strong a little longer."

"Don't leave me, Martha," he begged.

"I'm here, Walt. I'm right here, my love," she said and he could have sworn her felt the stroke of her hand on his brow.

"I'm so tired," he told her.

"I know, my sweet. Rest a little. I'll be right here with you," she told him.

Her words comforted him and he closed his eyes. His breathing was ragged now, short breaths resembling a dog's panting, but at least he was still fighting.

The Ferg had called in Mountain Rescue, who had put a chopper in the air in the hopes of spotting the missing man. Now he and Ruby waited anxiously by the radio for any glimmer of hope. To their surprise, Branch Connally arrived at the office with an offer of help. Cady had called him from her car on her way to the cabin. He wanted to be of some assistance, however, there was little anyone could do, but wait.

Henry and Cady continued their ride following the tracks of Walt's horse back across the valley and up into the foothills. Conversation was light as Henry concentrated on the ground, looking for signs that would lead him to his friend. Cady was concentrating also. She was concentrating on keeping it together as one thought kept invading her brain – what if he was lying somewhere out there, dead?

She prayed like she had never prayed before, begging that her beloved father be found safe and well. She prayed to her Mom to help them find him. They had been in the saddle for 25 minutes when they reached the rocky incline that led to the higher plain on the mountain where Cady's mother's ashes had been scattered. The path was narrow and they rode in single file with Henry taking point. They rounded a large pine tree and Henry stopped and leaned down for a closer look at the ground. There was an unmistakable blood stain in the dry clay. He stood up on his stirrups and looked ahead and saw something he had hoped he wasn't going to find, a body.

"Stay here," he said to Cady as he dismounted hurriedly.

He quickly approached the body and as he got closer he first of all recognized the jacket. Then the features became clearer confirming his fears. It was Walt. His head hung forward and slightly to one side. There was no obvious sign of life.

Then from behind him came a guttural cry when Cady saw the reason they had stopped. She jumped from the mare and ran, brushing past Henry and dropping to her knees by her father's side. All she saw was the blood. A trail of blood stained down from his lips to his chin and onto the collar of his shirt. The gruesome wound in his abdomen was clearly visible where he had cut away his shirt to cauterize it. His knife was on the ground by his side. It was all too horrible and she feared the worst. She took him in her arms and pulled him close to her.

"Daddy," she cried. "Please, God, no. Daddy!" she begged, already grieving.

Henry hesitated, shocked at the sight of his friend. He couldn't be...

 **TBC**...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Henry gathered himself then leaned down beside Cady as she desperately clung to her father. He reached over and felt Walt's neck for a pulse. His heart ached as he felt nothing, but he noticed immediately that Walt wasn't cold. He tried again, his fingers lingering on Walt's carotid a little longer, and then he felt something. It was weak, but there was definitely a pulse.

"Cady, he's still alive," he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"He's alive? Really? Oh, thank God," she said in disbelief, truly having believed she had lost her father.

She released him from her vice-like embrace and gently laid him back down on the ground.

"Daddy, it's Cady. Wake up for me. Come on, please wake up."

Henry took a cell phone from his jacket and called the Mountain Rescue. He explained the gravity of the situation and gave their position and asked that they send the helicopter to meet them on the lower plain. The sheriff was seriously wounded and needed hospital treatment immediately. They said they would be there in a matter of minutes. Henry knew it would take him and Cady longer than that to get Walt onto a horse and down the trail, but he said nothing. They would just have to wait for them.

Henry took out some first aid supplies that he had packed in his saddlebag. He knew he'd have to patch Walt up before moving him. Firstly, he covered the wound on Walt's stomach. He rolled him carefully onto his side and found the entry wound and did the same. Then using a large roll of bandage he wrapped it around Walt's mid-rift a number of times and prepared to move him.

Through it all, Cady spoke to her father, trying to comfort him. At one stage as she spoke, his eyes flickered open and he looked at her, but he didn't really see her.

"Martha… don't …..leave me," he said weakly.

Hearing him talk to her mother broke her heart.

"No, Dad. It's me. It's Cady. We're going to get you to the hospital, okay? Just hold on," she said, turning towards Henry who was securing his horse to a tree in order to keep him steady so he could eventually lift Walt onto him.

"Help me get him up, Cady," Henry said, taking hold of Walt's arm and hauling him to his feet.

Walt's head fell forward onto his chest and lolled from side to side as they moved him. He was unconscious again. It wasn't easy to haul Walt's dead weight up onto the horse. He wasn't a small man. Henry placed him lying on his stomach over the saddle hoping his own body weight would curtail any further bleeding. His head and arms hung one side of the horse and his legs on the other. Then Henry mounted behind him and held him in place.

Cady spotted her dad's hat which was lying further along the path and grabbed it, before hurriedly mounting her horse. She led the way back down the trail to the lower plain. They rode carefully, Henry conscious not to bounce Walt's damaged body around too much. Above them, a helicopter flew in low, preparing to land. As they finally emerged from the trees, Cady was relieved to see that the Mountain Rescue chopper had already landed and was waiting for them.

Two medics carrying a stretcher began running towards them as they neared the landed craft. Henry brought his horse to a halt and allowed the medics to pull Walt down and lift him onto the stretcher.

"He has a gunshot wound in his back and an exit wound in his gut," Henry told them. "His breathing is not good."

Cady had abandoned her horse and was quickly at her father's side. He looked terrible. His face was deathly pale which only made the smeared blood jump out even more. One of the medics placed an oxygen mask over Walt's face to assist his breathing.

"His BP is dangerously low," one of the medics told Cady as he removed the blood pressure cuff. "We need to move now," he told the pilot.

They loaded him onto the chopper without further delay, permitting Cady to travel with them. Henry stayed behind with his horses and made his way back to Walt's cabin soon after the helicopter took off.

Vic was waiting anxiously at the cabin and looked up and watched as the helicopter passed overhead on its way to the regional trauma center in Casper. She knew from Ruby's call over the radio that Walt had been found, but had no idea of his condition. She was desperate for information. She almost tripped when she started running when she eventually spotted Henry who was leading his horses back to the cabin.

"Is he okay?" she asked in desperation when she reached him.

Henry just shook his head solemnly.

"What? What does that mean? Henry? Is he alive?" she demanded vigorously.

"Yes, he is alive….but he is weak," Henry replied, visibly upset and greatly concerned. She saw the blood stains on his hands and on the saddle of one of the horses and knew it was bad.

"What the hell happened to him?" she asked.

"We found him lying on the trail. He was shot. I believed he was dead when I found him first," Henry told her. "He was hit in the back. It went through, but he is not doing well. They have airlifted him to the trauma center in Casper. They have the best surgeons in the state the medics told me."

"Casper? I have to get there," Vic told him.

"I will come with you. Just let me unsaddle my horses," he said, intending to leave them loose on Walt's property until he returned.

Slowly, news was filtering through to the Sheriff's office that Walt had been found. Ruby became upset when Vic radioed in to inform them of the extent of Walt's injury. The Ferg was shocked at the news. Branch, while worried for Walt, could only think of being there for Cady.

The flight to Casper was heart-wrenching for Cady. She sat positioned at her father's head, squeezing a bag of saline into his veins, while one of the medics treated him. Walt remained unconscious the whole time. The flight took 20 minutes, the longest 20 minutes of Cady's life. They landed on the roof of the hospital building and her dad was whisked away for further treatment by a waiting trauma team. She chased after the procession of doctors and nurses surrounding him, but was stopped from entering the trauma room. Cady never felt as lost or alone as she did when the door closed and her dad disappeared.

That hospital waiting room felt like the loneliest place on earth for the couple of hours she spent waiting on her own. Finally Vic and Henry arrived having driven from Durant.

"How is he?" Vic asked as soon as she saw Cady. She wanted to know but feared her answer.

"I don't know. No one will tell me anything," Cady said, wiping another tear from her eye.

"That is a good sign, Cady," Henry said positively. "It means that Walt is still fighting. That can only be good."

"I hope so," Cady said, resuming her place on the hard plastic seat, joining her hands in an almost prayer-like position.

They hadn't been there long when Vic's cell phone rang. It was Ruby, desperate for any word on Walt's condition. Unfortunately, Vic had none to share.

As they waited, Henry kept them topped up with coffee, but no one was in a mood to eat. Another couple of hours passed agonisingly slow. At last, an exhausted looking surgeon approached them.

"Are you the family of Sheriff Longmire?" he asked, acutely aware of who his patient was.

"Yes," was all Cady managed to say as she rose shakily to her feet.

"This is his daughter, Cady. I am Henry and this is Deputy Moretti," Henry said by way of introduction.

"I'm Dr. Cooper. I operated on the sheriff. As you know he suffered a serious gunshot wound to his back which resulted in massive internal injury. By some grace, the downward angle of entry of the bullet probably saved his life. It collapsed his left lung and exited through his upper abdomen on the right side. Miraculously, it missed his spinal column and major blood vessels although he may suffer some residual effects from the muscular trauma. He's made it through the surgery, but my main concern now is infection," he informed them.

Cady, Vic and Henry listened intently as the doctor spoke, hanging on every word.

"It looks like he tried to pack and cauterize the wound himself which stopped him from bleeding out and while it probably saved his life, it introduced bacteria into the wound and there are already signs of infection. We've debrided the area, repaired the perforations and are treating him with a cocktail of antibiotics. We will have to wait and see how he responds to those," he explained. "At the moment his condition remains serious."

"He is going to be okay though?" Cady asked, seeking reassurance while biting back the tears.

"Honestly, Miss Longmire, it's too early to say for certain," the doctor said, not giving a definitive answer.

It wasn't the answer Cady had hoped for. Her heart felt like it was in a vice. She felt it being crushed.

"Can we see him?" Vic asked eagerly.

"Yes, you can follow me. He's not yet regained consciousness. It could be a while but even when he does, he'll be very weak," the doctor told them.

He led them to the intensive care suite and to a small, single room therein. Walt lay on the bed at a slightly elevated angle, a light sheet over his legs which was pulled up barely covering the large dressing on his abdomen. His eyes were closed and an oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth.

"He's breathing on his own," the doctor pointed out, "which is a good sign. We've placed a chest drain to re-inflate his lung. We'll monitor him closely for the next 24 hours and see how things progress."

Cady walked over to the bed and took hold of her father's hand. Vic desperately wanted to do the same, but knew it wouldn't be right. It wasn't her place.

"Can he hear us?" she asked the doctor.

"Unlikely, but it can do no harm to talk to him. Let him know you're here," he told her.

Cady squeezed his hand and told him that she was there and that he was going to be fine. She stroked his forehead with carefree affection. She realised that he was all she had and after losing her mother in such a heinous way, she couldn't face losing him as well. More tears threatened to fall, but she bravely fought them back.

Cady, Vic and Henry rotated in and out of the room throughout what turned out to be a very long night and into the next day. There was little change in Walt's condition throughout that time. Vic and Henry tried to field the seemingly never-ending string of calls from concerned friends and acquaintances of the sheriffs who were only hearing the news.

Vic was on one of those calls the early the next morning when Cady hurried from the room and gestured at her to come. She made her excuses and ended her call quickly.

"He's awake," Cady told her, unable to contain her delight.

Vic rushed in to the ICU room and saw Henry standing over Walt and watching him closely. Walt's eyes were open, but he was far from alert. They were glazed and it was clear to her that he was still battling the effects of the medications and trying to come around. Cady talked to him in a very deliberate, precise manner hoping he could understand.

"Dad, it's me. You're going to be ok. Vic is here too…and Henry."

Walt mumbled something. No one could make it out. He squeezed his eyes tightly, as if to clear his vision and then opened them deliberately wide. Things were beginning to focus. He felt as if he had cotton wool in his mouth. He looked up and recognised his beautiful daughter smiling down at him.

"Hey….Punk…," he said, his voice barely audible.

"Hey, yourself," Cady replied, smiling broadly, her relief palpable.

"I'm...alive?" he said sounding surprised.

"Of course you are my friend," Henry said, stepping into his line of vision. "Your D.I.Y. medical skills are now legendary in these parts."

Walt managed a feeble smile. He tried to moisten his parched lips, but his mouth was bone dry. Cady noticed this attempt and reached for a plastic cup and spooned a couple of ice chips into his mouth, which he accepted gratefully.

Walt closed his eyes again savouring the liquid. He felt so weak. He nodded off briefly without realising it. When he woke he picked up the conversation where he had left off.

"How'd you find me?" he asked breathlessly,

"Henry. He tracked your horse," Cady told him.

"Horse? Is he…?"

Henry smiled. Typical Walt, more concerned for his animal than himself.

"We got him checked by the vet. He'll be okay," Henry told him.

"Walt," Vic said, stepping forward from behind Cady. "Can you tell me who did this to you? Can you remember who shot you?"

He nodded.

"Gilbert," he replied.

Cady, Henry and Vic exchanged confused glances. Vic immediately knew who he was talking about.

"Walt, it couldn't have been Gilbert. You shot him months ago, remember? It couldn't have been him. He's dead," she told him.

"Not Chance….. Ida…..and her boy," he managed before a short cough cut him short and took his breath away.

Creases of pain were visible on his face as the physical effort of coughing tortured his already tender abdomen. He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass.

"I'll get someone," Cady said, rushing from the room, the thought of her beloved father in pain too much for her to bear.

Vic stepped forward and unconsciously took Walt's hand all the while trying to digest the information he had shared. Ida Gilbert. She recalled her time as a captive at the hands of the Gilberts. Chance Gilbert's wife was just as nuts as he was. And the boy, she kind of felt sorry for him. He never stood a chance to be normal kid. His upbringing had removed him from regular schooling and normal social interaction. He was force-fed the opinions of Chance Gilbert so he never had a chance to develop his own. It looked like losing Chance had driven both him and his mother over the edge. They had tried to kill Walt. God knows what else they were capable of.

Vic didn't care that Henry was there. She just wanted Walt to know that she was there for him. She stroked his arm affectionately with one hand before allowing their fingers to intertwine. She just wanted to feel his touch. It had been so difficult for her, trying to keep at arm's length for professional reasons, giving him the time and space he so obviously needed, while inside she just wanted to hold him. He squeezed her hand in response to her touch, glad of the comfort it offered as he waited for the pain to pass.

Henry glanced at their open act of affection, but knew better than to comment. He had seen the way they both looked at each other and acted around each other for some time. They had something, he wasn't quite sure what. And he also knew that Walt would be the first to tell him that it was none of his business and to keep his opinions to himself, which was exactly what he was going to do.

"We'll get the crazy bitch, Walt. I'll alert the Ferg straight away and get him to run down her information," Vic told him as soon as he relaxed when the most severe of the pain passed. "We'll find her, but I really should get back to Durant and start the search. We're going to be extra stretched now you're laid up."

Walt nodded in agreement. Cady returned and Vic released Walt's hand discreetly. A nurse followed her in carrying a syringe. She administered the dose of morphine into the IV line and it quickly took effect on Walt. His eyes grew heavy again and he slipped into another drug-induced sleep without another word.

Vic turned to Henry.

"I need to get back to work. Do you need a ride or are you staying here?" she asked.

"I will go with you. You are short-handed so I will do what I can to help," he told her, before turning to Cady. "I will return tomorrow. If you need anything before then, call me."

"Thank you, Henry," Cady said, hugging him tightly. "For everything."

Vic called the Ferg from the truck to update him on what Walt had told her. He started gathering as much information on Ida Gilbert, searching under her maiden name and married name, even though she and Gilbert had never been married in the eyes of the law. He and Ruby were busy tracking her down when Branch Connally arrived into the office again.

"Hi Ruby," he said. "Ferg."

"Branch," Ferg said, warily. "Have you heard from Cady? Walt's conscious," he told him.

"Yeah. I heard," Branch told him. "That's good news. She told me that the doctors are cautiously optimistic. So, where do you want me, Ferg?"

"Want you? I'm not sure what….."

"You're down a deputy, Ferg, and now you're minus a sheriff," Branch pointed out. "I assume you want to find who did this to Walt. I'm here to help," Branch told him.

"Oh, I don't know, Branch. I mean I'd have to check with Vic," he explained.

"Vic? She'll be glad of the help," Branch said sounding cocky.

However, Branch wasn't so cocky as to take his old desk back. He sat at what used to be the Ferg's small desk.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, logging on to their IT system.

Ferg wasn't going to argue. He had enough on his plate trying to track down Ida Gilbert. He asked Branch to put out the APB for Ida Gilbert. They alerted the neighboring states in case the Gilberts tried to run. When she arrived back, Vic then worked on tracking down other members of Gilbert's followers thinking Ida might turn to them. She was actually glad of Branch's help, but was pained to admit it. They worked tirelessly that day and the next, but to no avail. She seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Walt's condition remained relatively unchanged in that time. Cady stayed by his side, with Branch driving up to Casper in the evenings bringing her a change of clothes and some take out food. Walt spent increasingly longer periods awake which had made Cady feel more hopeful. Dr. Cooper was still being cautious reminding her that he still wasn't out of the woods yet.

Meanwhile, the deputies were desperate to come up with a lead so they decided to return to the crime scene and process it thoroughly. Branch volunteered to accompany Henry to where he had found Walt. He decided to try to track Gilbert's last movements after she shot Walt. They rode up to the area where they had found Walt a couple of days earlier.

Henry pointed to a dark patch near a tree, showing Branch where he had found Walt. Branch looked around, noting the remoteness of the area.

"You were lucky you found him when you did," Branch commented.

"This I know," Henry replied as he dismounted.

He wandered around the area, tracking backwards and firstly finding the tracks from Walt's horse and then the area where Walt had been thrown. Branch too had dismounted and had taken out a digital camera to photograph the scene.

"He fell here," Henry said, pointing to some flattened vegetation and blood drops.

Branch snapped some shots. Then Henry pointed to the boulder.

"Shot came from up there."

They walked around the area attentively. Henry continued off the path. Soon he stopped and leaned down looking in some vegetation.

"Walt's gun."

Branch followed him and photographed it where it lay and then placed it in an evidence bag, hoping to preserve any prints that might be on it.

Henry's eyes barely left the ground in front of him. He saw multiple shoe prints. He was able to distinguish between those of the boy and those of his mother. He spotted where the boy had waited for Walt. A clearer picture of how it all happened was unfolding. After a few minutes he was able to decipher from which direction they had escaped.

"Do you have everything you need?" Henry asked Branch.

"I think so," Branch replied.

"Ok, this way," he said after he had remounted.

He led the way and followed the tracks for a couple of miles until they led to some tire tracks.

"They had a vehicle," he told Branch.

Branch dismounted and took pictures of the tire tracks as further evidence. They then cantered along, following the tire tracks until they met the highway.

"They headed south," Branch said with a realization.

He phoned Ruby and updated her on their findings. It wasn't much but it was a start. Their APB had been useless. No sightings of the pair were reported. Branch had a feeling that they were still in the area and were lying low.

Vic was growing frustrated at their lack of progress. She wanted so badly to get the people who had almost killed Walt. After three days, she was exhausted. She worked the case during the day and traveled at night to the hospital.

It didn't help any that Walt was still so ill. News had just come through that he had taken a downward turn. Despite the antibiotics, he was now battling an infection. Cady was very worried. This worried Vic. With Walt already weakened by the trauma of being shot, the infection was potentially life-threatening.

Vic was beside herself. She had thought once Walt regained consciousness that he was out of the woods. This latest development scared her. She realized how much she needed him. She regretted how much time they had wasted and right then she decided that once he was better, she would be honest about her feelings.

He just had to get better.

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was the fifth day following the shooting. Walt's fever had broken at last.

 **Walt's POV**

Opening my eyes, I realised that the dreadful heaviness in my head had finally lifted. I actually felt better than I had in days. I shifted sorely in the bed. I noticed numbness in my right leg, but I assumed that it was something to do with the fact that I had been bed-ridden for several days. A dull ache in my back and into my gut reminded me of my injury. I had to admit that I was grateful for the relief the medication was giving me.

The room was quiet. No visitors. I was glad. I didn't have to pretend to feel any better than I felt. I could be miserable all by myself.

My mind wandered back to that fateful morning on the mountain. The memory of the pain and the fear I felt at the time would haunt me for some time no doubt. No one was more surprised than I when I actually woke up, alive, in this hospital for the first time a few days ago and saw my daughter. I was sure I was going to die in the wilderness. I had made my peace and was ready to be with my Martha.

Through the corner of my eye I saw the door to my room open. Rolling my head slightly to my right, I was able to see my beautiful daughter wander through the door. She was a vision, so like her mother. She was carrying a take-out coffee and a Danish pastry. I was hoping that it wasn't for me because there was no way I could stomach anything at that moment. Her face lit up when she saw me watching her.

"Hey, Dad, you're awake."

"Yup."

She rushed to my side and leaned down towards me. I gratefully accepted the kiss she placed on my cheek. Truly, the best medicine a father could ask for. She placed her coffee and Danish on the small table by the head of the bed and took the chair that was in the corner and pulled it closer. I noticed the dark circles under her eyes and her drawn features. I couldn't help but comment.

"You look tired."

"Really? That's what you're going with."

I creased my forehead in confusion, unsure what I said wrong. The serious look melted away and she allowed her grin through.

"It's been a long few days, but I'm fine, Dad. More importantly, how do you feel?"

Like her Mom used to whenever I was sick, she placed her hand on my forehead.

"I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. I looked at where I was and considered my broken body and what I'd been through.

"Well, I will be fine. There's no need for you to sit here all the time, Cady. You should go home and get some rest. I'm not going anywhere."

To be honest, I hated her seeing me like this. She deserved better than having to look after her old man. She had her own life to live. She had Branch now and regardless of my discomfort with the relationship, I didn't want to be the reason it didn't work out for them. She looked at me as if my suggestion was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

"I'd rather stay with you."

"Thanks, Punk, but I'm on the mend. I'm sure you have places to be."

She grinned.

"Sounds like you're trying to get rid of me."

I gave a short laugh. She always could see right through me.

"I could do with some things from the house. Maybe a razor?"

I rubbed the rough growth on my chin. The stubble was more of a beard at this stage.

"And maybe some pyjamas?"

"Pyjamas? You don't wear….. never mind. I can pick up whatever you need, but I don't have a car. I rode with you in the helicopter when you were brought in. I guess I could get a ride home with Henry later. He said he'd call to look in on you after lunch."

We continued to chat for a while until Patti entered the room. Patti was one of the more senior nurses working at the Trauma Center, a well-built, homely woman with a wicked sense of humor and a no nonsense bedside manner. Cady excused herself, took her coffee and what was left of her Danish, as she had become accustomed to the hospital routine. This was wound check time.

"How do you feel this morning, Sherriff?"

"Better."

She pulled a curtain around my bed and then placed a digital thermometer in my ear and took my temperature. The thermometer beeped after a few seconds and she read the outcome.

"99.3. Almost back to normal."

"Good, so when can I go home?"

Patti gave me a stern look.

"Walter Longmire, you won't be leaving this hospital until you are back on your feet and that won't be for a while yet. Enough lip. Lie back and let me have a look at your wound."

She reached for the bed controls and lowered the head of my bed until I was in a prone position. I felt a slight discomfort as my wound was stretched by the change in body position. She re-positioned the sheet to protect my modesty before raising the end of the hospital gown up to my chest, revealing the large dressing covering my abdomen. She teased the adhesive and gently removed the dressing. I raised my head and stole a quick glance and cringed at the angry red wound that ran about 3 inches down my right-hand side. Either side was blistered skin, no doubt courtesy of my crude attempt at cauterizing the wound.

"It's looking a lot better, Walter. The infection is clearing."

I lay back, released the breath I didn't know I had been holding and relaxed and allowed Patti to clean around the wound and re-dressed it.

"Are you feeling up to some Jello?"

I shook my head.

"Not sure I could keep it down."

"I'll bring you a cup in case you change your mind."

I was pretty sure I wouldn't.

"The good news is we'll be moving you out of the ICU later today."

"Sounds good."

It really did. I know I had slept through most of the last five days, but I was sick of this room. Poor Cady must really be dying to get out of this drab and sterile environment.

"I'll pop back in a while and help move you."

Patti continued on about her business and Cady soon returned, resuming her position beside me.

"All good?"

"Good as new."

"Hardly, Dad. You do realise that you'll have to take it easy for a few weeks until you're back on your feet."

"I know, Punk. Don't worry. I won't go back to work for at least two weeks."

I knew that would get a reaction. I watched as her expression changed to horror.

"Two weeks?! Are you kidding me? You nearly died. There's no way I'm letting you back to work….."

She stopped her rant when she saw the smile on my face.

"Oh, you…."

She restrained from cussing me out. The shocked look dissipated and she returned my smile.

"At least you still have your sense of humor. You know I wouldn't be surprised if you did try going back to work as soon as you get out of here."

I looked at her and shook my head. I sighed, realising that it was going to be a while before I was anywhere close to being back to normal.

"Not this time, Punk. I have a feeling this is going to take a little longer."

She noticed my concern and thought it her duty to reassure me.

"Maybe, but I know you, Dad. First chance you get, you'll be back in the office."

"Maybe."

"Patti said you'll be moved out of ICU later. That's good news. It means you're on the mend."

I nodded and gave my beautiful daughter the smile she needed from me. I hoped she was right because right now I felt as weak as a kitten. I had only been awake a short time and already felt like I could sleep again. I did my best to stay awake for Cady's sake. We chatted, well she did most of the talking, but I participated in the conversation as best I could.

Eventually, the conversation dried up and Cady, most likely seeing me fading, decided to go out and stretch her legs. I don't remember how long it took for me to fall asleep, but it wasn't long. I must have slept for quite a few hours because when I woke, Henry Standing Bear was at my bedside.

"Hello, Walt. The news is good, I hear."

"I guess so."

"You don't sound convinced."

Henry knew me too well. He made his talk-to-me face.

"I'm just not sure I'll ever be right."

"Of course you will, Walt. Your spirit is strong, but you must give your body time to heal. I am not sure you realise how close to death you came. It may take some time to come back from that and you must allow yourself this time."

I nodded. I knew he was right, the wise old owl. I was just feeling sorry for myself. I hated being stuck in hospital and hated even more being dependent on others.

"Will you take Cady home with you when you leave? I've asked her to pick up some things for me from the house."

"Of course."

"Have you heard anything from Vic about the Gilberts?"

"They're still looking. Today, Branch, Vic and Ferg are carrying out door to door searches of properties south of Miller's Creek. We tracked a vehicle from close to the scene of your shooting to that road. Highway Patrol drew a blank on their search so we think they are holed up somewhere close by. Vic is very determined. She will find them."

I couldn't help but smile. I could picture her strutting around, giving orders and taking her frustrations out on all those around her. My smile must have been more obvious than I thought to make Henry comment.

"She is very fond of you, you know."

I didn't know where to look. Where did that come from?

"She would have come today only she is determined to find the people who hurt you."

I emitted a nervous laugh.

"Relax, Walt. I know there is nothing going on. But maybe, when you're feeling stronger, you should take her out…. to thank her for all her hard work."

Henry gave me a wry smile. I was left speechless. He stood up to leave and patted me on the forearm, revelling in my mortification.

"I'll tell Cady I'm leaving now. See you tomorrow, my friend."

With that Henry was gone and I was left alone with my embarrassment. What did he know about Vic and me? I mean I know there isn't really a Vic and me, but how did he know that I would like there to be? Why am I so bad with this kind of thing? I would love to ask her for dinner like he suggested, but I still have that fear of making a fool out of myself. She's a beautiful young woman. Am I fooling myself to think she'd want to be saddled with an old cowboy like me for the rest of her life?

I lay there for a while, thinking about Vic, about Cady and what my future would hold. I must have fallen asleep because it was early evening when Patti woke me.

"Hi, Walt. We have your room ready, so if you feel up to it, we're going to move you."

She gestured to the orderly waiting with a wheel chair. That was humbling.

"Sure."

I threw back the sheet and went to move to the edge of the bed when Patti stopped me.

"Slowly, Walter. You need to take your time. Let me help you."

"I can do this," I insisted, declining her offer.

I managed to get to the edge of the bed and tentatively placed my legs on the floor. I was already breathing heavily at the effort of just getting to that position. The movement sent darts of pain down my back and into my right leg. Patti noticed my wince.

"Are you ok, Walter?"

I nodded, swallowing hard. I raised myself off the edge of the bed and allowed my legs to take my weight. Patti stood facing me and insisted I place my hands on her shoulders as I stood. She smiled at me, encouraging me, knowing the pain I was trying to hide. My legs trembled beneath me. I tried to breathe through the pain, but realized that I sounded like a woman in labor.

"Are you good?" Patti asked as my hands gripped her shoulders tightly.

I nodded, afraid that if I spoke I would whimper.

"Let's try one step," she said before taking a small step backwards, thus making room for me to step forward towards her.

I instinctively began to step with my right leg, but it wouldn't respond as it should so I went with my left leg first. Though painful, I took a small step and then could only drag my right leg into position.

"Somethings wrong," I said to Patti as I straightened up and looked fearfully into her eyes.

"It's not uncommon in patients who have suffered injuries similar to yours, Sheriff. You have a lot of muscle and nerve damage and that is going to take time to heal. I think you've done enough for today," she said, signalling for the orderly to bring the wheelchair around behind me.

She gently lowered me into it.

"I'll check on you later when you get settled in upstairs," Patti said as the orderly began wheeling me out of the room. It was one of the most humiliating and humbling moments of my life. I felt helpless.

I was on my way to my new accommodation with much to think about. I felt tired and weak and a little nauseous at the thought of the possibility that my leg might never work. I felt angry. Had the Gilberts crippled me? Was my career over? Was my entire life as I knew it going to change forever? Vic certainly wouldn't want a crippled old sheriff.

I felt tears well in my eyes as I waited for the elevator doors to open. I closed my eyes and pretended to be tired until the moment passed. I was glad by the time we got to my new room and Ben, the orderly, settled me in and finally left me alone.

I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the moisture on my cheek. The last time I had cried was when Martha died. I didn't know why I was crying. I have to admit I was scared, but I felt a little stupid about getting emotional. I nearly died, but I didn't die. I made it. I should be glad. I was given a second chance. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself.

I turned on my side and closed my eyes. Martha visited me in my dreams that evening. She told me that everything was going to be alright. Her presence made everything feel fine. My fear dwindled and I relaxed into a restful sleep that night.

TBC

A/n - decided to mix it up a little and give a chapter from Walt's point of view. Hope it wasn't too weird. Back to normal story version next chapter. Going away for weekend so won't get any updates until next week though.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N - Thanks to all who have reviewed so far. Really appreciate your views.**_

 **Chapter 5**

As Walt dealt with his injuries and fought to recover, Ferg, Branch and Vic combed remote hills and homesteads over a vast area for a week in the hope of locating the Gilberts. Their investigations eventually led them to a homestead about fifteen miles from where Walt was attacked. They caught a break and questioned the occupier, a former member of Chance Gilbert's group, who reluctantly confirmed that Ida and Derek had stayed with him for a while, but he told them that he put them on a bus headed south a couple of days earlier. He claimed he had no idea what they had done. When asked where they were going, he insisted he didn't know. While Vic didn't believe him for a minute, she couldn't prove otherwise.

She felt frustrated. She knew the chances of them being found was growing slim. The very thought of that mad woman getting away with what she did to Walt made her sick. She had sent alerts out to every state trooper's office between there and Texas but didn't hold out much hope of anything coming from it.

Every time she or Ferg visited with Walt, he asked about the case. Each time, they had little to tell him. Soon he stopped asking as he sensed their frustration.

Meanwhile, in a motel room near Oakley, Kansas, Ida Gilbert and her son Derek were packing their bags preparing for another day on the road. They had no set destination, just planned to keep on the move until the heat died down. Ida was mad as hell. She couldn't believe that the damned sheriff had actually survived. What were the chances? She cursed her stupidity for not putting a bullet in his head when she had the chance. Her picture had been in the newspapers and on some TV news bulletins over the last week, but it was dying down now. She had cut and dyed her hair and was keeping a low profile, trying not to attract attention. She was staying away from Wyoming, but knew that she would return there one day.

The following couple of weeks were hard on Walt. He hated being stuck in hospital. He struggled with the physical therapy. It was a necessary evil if he was to regain the full mobility in his leg. The pain never left him. Almost every day he struggled. He tried his best to hide it from Cady, from Vic and others, but was never able to hide the bad days from Henry.

Henry knew him too well. It was as if he could see into his very soul. Every doubt Walt had, Henry sensed. When Walt felt trapped, Henry found ways to release him with his wise words and his simple actions. He knew when to speak and when to just be there for his friend. Walt had no doubt that without Henry to confide in, he would not have made it this far.

When Vic wasn't working she made the effort to be there with him. She would sit and talk, keeping him up to date with all the going's on in Durant. She brought him books to pass the time. He soon found himself relaxing in her company. He noticed too that she was less guarded around him. He liked that she opened up to him, telling him her fears after he had been hurt. And the best part of every visit was when she kissed him goodbye on the cheek. It was only a peck but it meant so much to Walt.

As Walt got back on his feet and began to regain his strength, Henry always insisted that when he visited they go outside the hospital. Walt objected at first, reluctant for people to see him in his current, weakened state. He didn't want to be seen in the wheelchair or on his walking aid, but Henry was stubborn. Walt soon realized why Henry was pushing him. For Henry, it felt like his friend was giving up and he was not about to let that needed to accept what had happened.

Walt was a proud man. He didn't want to be the crippled sheriff, the talk of Durant. He didn't want people looking at him and pitying him. He didn't want to leave the security and privacy of the hospital and face the world outside on his own. And more than anything, he didn't want to face the reality of his life as it was right now.

When the day came to go home, he had mixed emotions. He wanted to go home, naturally, but he wanted to go home as his old self, not this shadow of himself that he had become.

He looked at the crutches that were propped at the end of his bed. He had graduated to the crutches earlier that week. At least it wasn't the walker, he thought, as Vic arrived to pick him up.

"I thought Henry was coming," Walt said, surprised to see her.

"Something came up," Vic told him, not elaborating. Truth was she had wanted to pick him up.

Walt took a deep breath and put his feet on the ground and stood, his body slightly stooped forward, still unable to fully straighten his back due to pain. His leg felt good today. He reached for the crutches, trying to avoid Vic's pitying gaze.

She took his bag and walked alongside him as they slowly made their way to the car. His face creased with pain as he eased himself into the passenger seat. Vic took the crutches from him and put them in the back seat. She had driven the Charger that day thinking it would be easier for Walt to get into than the truck.

"You good?" she asked as she started the engine.

Walt look at the hospital building that had been his home for the last few weeks. Then he looked and smiled at Vic.

"I'm good."

The arrangement with the doctor for Walt's release from hospital was that he was not to be home alone for the next couple of weeks. As a result, Cady and Vic insisted that he stay with them in their house. However, Walt felt very uncomfortable with this arrangement and eventually convinced them to let him home to his own house. They only agreed once he gave in and allowed one of them stay each night.

The drive home was long and relatively conversation free. Walt was not the most talkative person at the best of times. He dozed a little as they drove. Cady was at the house when they arrived. She greeted them enthusiastically from the veranda with a wild wave of her arm. Walt got out of the car slowly and stood, looking around his property, taking a deep breath of the fresh, country air.

He spotted his horse down in the corral and smiled. He really wanted to check on him so started slowly down towards him. It was only a couple of hundred yards to the fence, but halfway there, it suddenly felt like miles. The uneven ground made walking difficult and Walt's back gave a twinge every few steps.

Vic and Cady watched him intently as he made his way there.

"How's he doing today?" Cady asked Vic.

"Seems ok," she told her. "Quiet in himself, but nothing new there. Here's his meds. The doctor made a list of what's to be taken and when. He also wanted to remind you that Walt has an appointment at the local hospital tomorrow to continue his PT."

"Thanks, Vic."

They both watched as Walt leaned on the corral fence and called his horse. The horse responded to his voice and approached and put his head over the fence. Walt rubbed him down and felt along his neck and withers, noticing the healed scar on his dark coat.

"Good boy," Walt said, stroking the animal. "Looks like we're both gonna have a few scars to bear."

He gave the horse a strong slap on the shoulder. He was about to turn back towards the house when a voice behind him startled him.

"He's recovered fully," Cady said, sliding her arm around her Dad's back. "And you will too."

He smiled as she stroked the horse with her free hand.

"I guess we've both seen better days," Walt admitted, sounding a little down.

"Haven't we all, but you're both tough as nails and have plenty of good days left," Cady reminded him. "C'mon, lunch is ready."

Together they walked up to the house. Walt stopped and commented on a hand rail that had been erected on the steps of his porch. Cady informed him that Henry had been busy and had made a couple of other adjustments inside the house to make life a little easier for Walt until he was better.

Walt had mixed feelings about the work. He tried to be grateful, but in his mind it meant he wasn't capable of managing without these aids. He was disabled. He hated that word, but it best described him in his current state. Relinquishing his independence and accepting help was difficult for him, especially in his own home.

"I might just sit out here for a while," he said to Cady as he reached the top of the steps. "Enjoy the fresh air."

"Sure," she said, guiding him to the bench. "I'll fix you a plate and bring it out."

Walt sat and closed his eyes. He longed to be better. He longed to be stronger. He wanted things to be back the way they were. Putting on this brave face was exhausting.

"You tired?" Vic asked as she sat beside him.

He opened his eyes and smiled. She handed him a cold can of Rainier. He looked at her with surprise.

"The doc said you could have just one with a meal," Vic told him.

He accepted it and took a long awaited mouthful. He savoured it before swallowing.

"Best beer I ever tasted," he said. "Thanks. I needed that."

"You should eat," she said. "I was going to stay tonight if that's ok with you. Cady and Branch have a function to attend so I offered. You don't mind, do you?"

"Why would I mind? But you don't have to stay. I mean, I'll be fine," Walt told her.

"Well, the doctor said you weren't to be left alone for a couple of weeks," Vic reminded him.

"Fine. Whatever you like."

"Don't sound too enthusiastic anyway," Vic said sarcastically.

"I didn't mean it like that. Sorry, Vic," Walt said genuinely. "I know you mean well."

"You know Walt, maybe you need to snap out of it? You got shot. You survived. You're in pain. I get it, but it's gonna get better. Things may have changed temporarily, but I need you not to give up. We'll get her you know? She can't stay underground for ever. I won't let her get away with what she did to you," Vic said with fervor and looked him in the eye.

Walt met her gaze. He loved her passion. He loved how she pulled no punches and said it like it was. She could draw him in with her words and intoxicate him. She stood up and gave his knee a playful squeeze.

"Now, tuck in. I'll be back in a few minutes," she said, returning inside.

Walt looked at the plate of food. He knew he had better eat of he would never hear the end of it.

Later that evening Ruby and Ferg called out to the cabin to welcome Walt home. Despite the chill in the air, they sat outside and drank beers and Walt experienced a little normality at last. It felt good to be home, to have good friends come by. He hadn't invited people over since Martha had died. Cady made her excuses early in the evening and went to town to meet Branch. He was meeting with some charity's board members with a view to donating.

As evening drew late, Walt began to fade. It became obvious that he was tired. Ruby was the first to pick up on it and hinted to Ferg that they should be leaving. With any fuss they were gone, leaving Walt and Vic alone. Vic began to tidy up empties and plates from the veranda. By the time she had cleared them away, Walt was fast asleep on the chair. She felt bad to wake him so left him there assuming that he would wake later. She went inside and took a blanket from the sofa and gently placed it over him.

She washed up and then decided to have a shower and get into her sweats. When she came back out, Walt was still asleep, but appeared restless. She took another blanket, put it around her shoulders and sat outside and watched the stars over the mountains. It was such a beautiful, peaceful place. She could see why Walt and Martha had fallen in love with it. It was their little piece of heaven. Vic was startled when Walt made a sudden noise and his breathing quickened.

"No. Don't…no…," he mumbled.

She realised that he was having a nightmare. For a second she didn't know what to do, but then she did what felt natural. She stood up and approached Walt. She leaned over him and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"Walt?" he said softly.

He didn't respond, but continued to mumble in his sleep. She touched his cheek and spoke to him.

"Wake up, Walt. You're having a bad dream."

He opened his eyes with a start and was surprised to see Vic so close to him.

"Hey, it's okay," she said, stroking his face gently. "You're okay."

He looked into her eyes and saw something that made him relax. He slowed his breathing. She cupped his face in her hands. Her sweet scent invaded his nostrils. God, she smelled so good, he thought. Was it his imagination or was she getting closer to him? So it seemed. And then he felt her lips brush against his. At first he wasn't sure if he was imagining it. Nope, he wasn't. There was definite contact. She had kissed him. He hesitated momentarily before giving in to his desires and responding to her kiss. It was a gentle, yet meaningful kiss. It was a kiss that broke down a barrier that had been between them for so long. And then it was over.

"It's okay, Walt. I've got you," she whispered when she pulled away.

As usual, Walt was quiet, not really sure how to react. He smiled to reassure her that he was okay.

"We should get you inside," Vic said, getting to her feet.

"Eh, Vic, I …eh, …I'm not sure if I can, em,….."

Vic smiled at his embarrassment and his assumption.

"Don't worry, Walt. You're just out of the hospital. I get it. I don't expect you to," she reassured him. "It's getting cold. You don't need to get a chill on top of everything else. C'mon, bed."

She helped him to his feet. He didn't reach for his crutch. Instead he just held her arm and stood there, towering over her. She looked up into his face and he took the opportunity to kiss her again. This time it was more passionate. He leaned in and she sought his lips hungrily. She wanted more and so did he, but both knew that would have to wait a while.

As they composed themselves, they went inside. Walt shuffled to his bedroom. Vic, ever conscious of Walt's health, found the bag of medication the doctor had given her at the hospital and brought it to him.

"Can I come in?" she asked from just outside his bedroom door.

"Sure," he replied.

She found him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off and struggling to get his boots off. Leaning forward wasn't easy and could be painful due to his injury.

"Need some help?" she asked kindly. Her eyes were drawn to the raised scar below his ribs, reminding her how lucky he was to be alive. It was her first time to see it and it shocked her a little.

"Would love some help," he admitted.

She snapped out of her trance and knelt on one knee, took hold of the heel of his boot and pulled. She did the same with the other one. She stood back up.

"Thanks," Walt said.

"You're welcome. Here's your meds. So...I'll be out on the couch if you need me," she said turning to leave.

He reached and grabbed her hand, stopping her.

"There's room enough for us both here," he said, patting the bed on which he sat.

Vic looked at him considering his words. He knew what she was thinking.

"I just don't really want to be alone tonight," he said by way of explanation for his forwardness.

She was surprised to hear him admit such a thing. He was usually such a closed book, but he seemed vulnerable this evening.

"Ok, but you better not snore. Let me just turn out the lights in the other room," she said, giving him time to get himself into bed.

When she returned, she removed her sweats and slid into the bed beside him, feeling a little awkward and shy. She was still wearing her t-shirt and panties. Walt lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling and tried not to get aroused. Maybe this was a mistake. He was only torturing himself with this beautiful creature beside him and he physically unable to act on his desires.

Vic felt a little awkward initially. Walt made no approach to her so eventually she snuggled over towards him and placed her arm across his chest without saying a word. To her relief, he brought is hand up and rested it on her arm and then he closed his eyes. He felt safe at last. And so did she.

They both slept well that night. Vic was woken in the early morning by a call to her cell phone. Despite her best efforts, the movement of her body as she tried to slip out of the bed, unnoticed, disturbed Walt. Vic disappeared into the living room. He could hear her talking on the phone. He sat up stiffly and using the furniture instead of his crutch, made his way to the living room. As he arrived, the call ended.

"Everything ok?"

"They got her."

Walt looked at her, not registering the significance of those three words. Vic realised that he was still drowsy.

"Ida Gilbert. They got her. Kansas State Police arrested her at a motel in Greenwood County, Kansas."

"That's good. And the kid?"

"He wasn't there when they made the arrest. They suspect that he's still in the area and are watching the motel in case he returns."

"Ok," Walt said, sounding a little hesitant. Vic sensed his caution.

"It's good news, Walt. She'll finally pay for what she did to you. And don't worry. Psycho Junior will turn up like a bad penny. They always do."

Walt smiled a weak smile and shuffled to the couch and lowered himself onto it slowly. His gut told him this still wasn't over.

 ** _To be continued_** …


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N - sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. Thanks for the interest in this story.**_

 **Chapter 6**

A couple of days later, Ida Gilbert was brought to Absaroka County to face charges for the attempted murder of Walt Longmire. Vic and Ferg were waiting at the sheriff's department to take custody of her when the transport arrived. A bail hearing was arranged quickly that same day. They, too, accompanied her to her hearing. Vic tried to keep it professional and not to let her see how much she wanted to kick her ass for what she did to Walt. Ida didn't utter a word the whole journey to the courthouse. Vic barely interacted with her except to get her in and out of the vehicle and into the courtroom.

Walt had insisted on being at the courthouse for the hearing, even though Vic told him his presence was not necessary. He asked Henry to pick him up and take him. It was a brief court appearance. Gilbert was placed on remand to appear for trial a month later.

Cady and Branch were also at the courthouse to support Walt although he seemed unfazed by the whole affair. He had just wanted to see Ida Gilbert and look her in the eye and let her know that he had survived. He left his crutch at home that day so as not to appear weak in her eyes. She saw him sitting in the gallery and glared at him as she was being led from the dock. She appeared composed, but once she knew she had Walt's attention she smiled an unsettling smile. Walt stood up straight, despite his pain, just so he could appear strong and unfettered by the injuries she had inflicted on him. Vic noticed this and was quick to step in and suggested they leave.

However, Walt wanted to talk to her. He wanted to know where her son was, but Vic would not allow him near her. She reminded Walt that he was the victim in this case. Allowing him to sit in on a suspect's interview would be improper. He would have to hear details of the interview from her later or read it in the report.

As they left the courthouse, a few locals, acquaintances of the sheriff's, came up to Walt and shook his hand and wished him a speedy recovery. They all meant well, but it made Walt uncomfortable. He didn't like the attention. He saw the pity in their eyes. Without the support of his crutches or the relief they offered, his gait was laboured and he was trying to hide the pain. He hated his lack of independence. He looked to Cady who saw her father's unease and discomfort and she knew that he wanted to get out of there. She linked his arm and he gratefully accepted her support. She and Branch drove him home, allowing Henry to get back to The Red Pony while Vic went back to work. Ida Gilbert would spend her first night in the local women's prison which was in Cumberland County.

Over the next few days, Henry kept Walt company by calling out to the cabin when he wasn't working. Cady made sure he was going to his physical therapy sessions and doctor's appointments at the local hospital. Slowly he was developing a routine and was starting the see the fruits of his efforts. He was getting better. His strength and mobility was returning. He was getting to the stage where he could manage pretty well with just one crutch as support and that was purely precautionary as he sometimes got darts of pain from his healing back muscles. The pain often traveled down into his leg and caused him to stumble but that was becoming less frequent.

What he was most happy about was that Vic had been spending most nights with him. They were sharing more intimate evenings together. She would cook a nice meal and open a bottle of wine and they would spend time like a couple. Or they would relax on the sofa, just talking, sometime cuddling and enjoying each other's company. She was careful not to pressure him into a physical expression of his feelings, but as he was feeling stronger, he hoped she soon would.

He had even managed to have an awkward chat with his daughter about how she would feel if things changed between him and Vic. Cady voiced no objections. While deep down she felt her father would be better suited with a woman closer to his own age, she decided to keep her opinions to herself. She realized that she should not be an obstacle to his happiness. She had almost lost him. Her life could have been very different as a result. Right now, she was grateful she still had her dad and all she wanted was to see him happy.

Walt had been home over a week at this stage and was feeling far more like his old self. He made an effort to get out and about each day and do some light work around the property, even if it was just grooming his horse or cutting up kindling. It made him feel good to be useful. Of course, if Cady saw him swinging the axe, she would kill him. He could almost hear her chastising him, but he was careful not to over exert himself. He knew that he still had some physical limitations.

He had spent the last hour cleaning out the horse's stall. He checked his watch and realized that it was time to wash up. Cady and Branch were due to call over for supper that evening. Vic was working late preparing for the trial and he was supposed to be getting things ready in the kitchen. Saying that, there wasn't a whole lot to do. Cady was also bringing the food. All he had to do was chill some wine, make sure the beers were in the fridge, wash some salad and set the table.

He limped up from the barn to the house, put the wine in the fridge and hit the shower. He felt fresher once he emerged and put on a clean shirt and jeans. He started rinsing some dishes he had left in the kitchen sink from earlier. As he was standing at the sink, he could have sworn he saw smoke coming from his barn. He walked to the front door to get a better look and from there could hear his horse whinnying.

"Shit," he cussed when he realized that there was a problem.

He reached for the phone just inside the door and called 911 asking for the fire department. He knew, however, that if it was a big enough fire, Tom and the guys would not get there in time to save the building.

He hurried to the barn as fast as he could manage and went around the back to where he assumed was the source of the smoke. Oddly, he saw a bucket full of straw ablaze, but nothing else. It was just occurring to him how strange that was when he was hit hard from behind. He went down like a sack of potatoes.

He briefly felt the sensation of being dragged. His back hurt. He must have blacked out completely because he remembered nothing else until the cold water splashed him in the face. He coughed and spluttered as he tried to catch his breath. He looked around to try figure out where he was. He realized that he was inside his barn. He was sitting with his back leaning against one of the support columns. He tried to get up, but quickly discovered that his hands were tied to it.

A movement above him caused him to look up. Standing above him was Derek Gilbert. This time the boy was not smiling. His face was expressionless. Walt could see no emotion whatsoever.

"Derek, what are you doing?" Walt asked, hoping to get him engage in a conversation.

The boy turned away from him and walked outside. Walt tried to use the opportunity and pulled against his binds to test how tightly they were tied. It turned out the kid did a good job. They were well secured. He pulled against them anyway hoping they might loosen. Before he knew it the boy had returned. However, much to Walt's horror he was carrying a can of kerosene.

"Derek, listen to me. So far you've done nothing wrong. Your Mom is the one who shot me. You're a juvenile. You won't do time. Do you hear me, Derek? We can forget all about this. Derek. Talk to me. Come on, son. Don't do this," Walt pleaded, hoping to get through to the kid.

"I'm not your son," he said coldly.

Derek barely broke his stride. He poured a trail of kerosene around the main entrance to the barn.

"Derek. If you're really going to do this, at least let my horse out. Please, don't leave him in here to burn," Walt begged.

"Shut up!" Derek yelled, slapping Walt hard in the face.

Walt flinched to one side, but absorbed the blow. His cheek stung and his lip split, but it was the least of his problems.

"Derek. Your Mom wouldn't want this for you. She's going to need you to be there for her. You kill me, you'll be a murderer. They'll try you as an adult. You'll never get out," Walt warned.

The boy smiled.

"Maybe not, but neither will you," he reminded Walt.

Just then Walt heard the unmistakable sound of a car driving up towards the house. So did Derek. It turned out to be the final push he needed. He hurriedly took out a book of matches from his jacket pocket and struck one before lighting the entire book. He looked once more at the helpless sheriff and gave him a wink. Then he dropped the match book into the kerosene soaked straw bales at the side of the barn. They erupted in flames immediately. Derek didn't stick around. He ran out the main barn door to make his escape.

Walt watched as the flames quickly flowed the trail of kerosene that the kid had made. It was almost mesmerizing but he knew he had to get out. He struggled furiously trying to get loose. He yelled at the top of his voice for help, hoping whoever had arrived might hear him. Not surprisingly, the flames spread quickly. His horse began kicking and whinnying as the smoke and flames panicked him.

Branch and Cady thought they heard yelling when they got out of the car. They looked towards the barn and saw the smoke and heard the horse's panicked cries. Branch saw a kid running from the barn and gave chase.

"Stop! Hey you! Get back here," he yelled.

To his surprise the boy stopped and turned around and boldly squared up to him. Branch was unconcerned as he towered over the kid.

"Do you really want to waste time coming after me? I thought you'd be more interested in saving the sheriff," Derek said calmly, glancing towards the burning barn.

Branch wasn't sure what he meant for a moment. Then it dawned on him. He looked at the burning building and then back at the kid.

"Is Walt inside?"

"Yep. He's a little tied up at the moment. I'd imagine he's feeling the heat right about now."

Branch turned immediately and ran towards the barn. The entrance was now completely engulfed. He couldn't see how he was going to get in from where he stood.

"Walt!" he yelled.

There was no response. Cady had come running down from where they parked the car and was growing frantic. Judging by her boyfriend's yelling and efforts to get inside, she realized that her father was in the burning building.

"It's too hot," he said desperately as he filled a bucket of water from the horse trough.

He tossed it towards the flames at the door but it was useless. Cady tried to think.

"There's another door," she said. "This way."

They ran around to the side of the barn.

Inside Walt was finding it hard to breath now. The smoke was growing thick and acrid. He lay low on his side and tried to get air, but the heat was growing now and the flames were getting closer. He knew it wouldn't take long for the wooden building to take hold.

Above the roar of the flames he could hear people calling his name. He struggled some more against the rope. However, the more energy he used the more oxygen he needed. He was starting to feel sleepy. He coughed roughly as the smoke invaded his lungs.

Outside, Branch and Cady were at the side entrance. It was secured from the inside. Branch cursed. Then Cady remembered seeing her Dad's axe sticking out of a log near the wood pile close by. She ran and grabbed it.

Branch took it from her and swung it at the door using all his strength. It took a few attempts, but he finally managed to get the door open. He told Cady to stay outside and he ran inside to find Walt.

"Walt!"

The smoke was thick and he found it hard to see. He pulled his t-shirt up over his face to try and stop him breathing in too much smoke. He kept low and soon found the horse's stall. He opened it and released the panic stricken animal. He led him towards the door he had entered through and released him to find his own way out. He turned and went back inside.

"Walt!"

Branch searched closer to the flames. Then he saw him, lying on his side on the ground.

"Walt? Can you get up?" he asked.

Walt was struggling for breath and barely conscious. When Branch tried to help him up, he discovered that he was tied up. He cursed as he tried to release the ropes, but couldn't open the knots. He wished he had the axe again, but he had dropped it before entering the barn. He had no choice. He ran back out and found it.

"Where is he?" Cady yelled, panic stricken when she saw her boyfriend re-emerge without her father.

"He's tied up," was all Branch said before running back into the burning barn to Walt.

With an accurate swing of the axe he cut the ropes.

"C'mon Walt," he said, trying to haul him to his feet.

Walt was coughing painfully and was jelly-legged, but with Branch's help he managed to make it to the door. The two men cleared the barn and were enthusiastically greeted by Cady who helped Branch with her Dad. They got away from the barn and headed towards their car. They gently lowered him to the ground where he continued to cough and gasp for breath.

Walt tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse.

"What?" Cady asked.

"Horse?"

"He's out, bolted in that direction," she said, pointing towards the woods in the distance.

Walt nodded, his body racked in a fit of coughing once more. Cady sat with her arm around him while Branch called for an ambulance. He was told that a fire and rescue crew had already been dispatched. Branch took a bottle of water from the back seat of his car and handed it to Walt. Walt poured a little over his face and eyes to soothe the irritation.

Walt sat and watched his barn be consumed by the blaze. The wood was starting to creak and crackle. Black smoke rose into the evening sky. He knew it would collapse soon and there was nothing he could do.

His chest felt tight and breathing was becoming a bit difficult. He had inhaled a lot of smoke. He knew that. He consciously tried to control his breathing and coughing. Cady held him tightly and couldn't help be worried. She could see he was struggling and trying to hide it from her.

"We should get him to the hospital," she said to Branch.

"I don't need to go to the hospital," Walt insisted.

"You took in a lot of smoke," Cady said standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

Walt didn't argue because another fit of coughing took hold. It hurt his already tender abdominal muscles.

"Let's get him in the car," Cady suggested.

Branch turned and looked back down the road.

"No need," he said to them. "I hear sirens."

Cady strained to hear and eventually heard them too. It was the fire department.

"How come they got here so quick?" she wondered.

"I called them…," Walt said, wheezing. "when I first saw the smoke."

They waited patiently until the fire truck arrived first soon. The Fire Chief, Tom Dunphy, knew Walt from various incidents over the years. He ordered his men to tackle the blaze before checking on his old pal.

"Walt? You okay?" he asked.

Walt nodded, but Cady quickly interjected to tell him that her father needed medical assistance.

"Don't worry, they're right behind us," Tom reassured her.

Cady relaxed when she saw the ambulance on the road. Once it pulled up, she waved the paramedics over to them frantically.

"He was inside for a while," she told them. "He's having trouble breathing."

"Okay," one of the paramedics said to her. "Sir, we'll get you on some oxygen and you should feel better," he told Walt.

He nipped back to the ambulance and came back with a small oxygen tank and mask.

"Sir, I need you to put this on," he said to Walt, placing the mask over his nose and mouth and starting the flow. "Try breathe as normally as you can."

Walt was glad of the oxygen. His chest still felt tight and he was starting to feel light headed. The medics continued to treat him, checking his blood pressure and listening to his lungs.

"Did you hit your head, Sir?" the medic asked, noticing the dried blood on Walt's scalp, behind his ear.

"Huh?" Walt said, forgetting for a moment being knocked unconscious by Derek.

"Your head is bleeding," the medic told him.

"Oh, yeah. The kid hit me from behind with something," Walt told him before taking another deep breath.

He asked if he had lost consciousness at all to which Walt nodded, indicating he had. Meanwhile, over the medic's shoulder Walt could see the fire fighters battling the blaze. Arcs of water hit the flames dousing the heat and flames only slightly. They were losing the battle.

After a brief discussion, the paramedics decided that Walt needed to go to the hospital for observation. Of course, Walt argued that he was okay, but Cady was there and she was taking no guff from him.

"You're going to the hospital. End of discussion. I'll call Vic and let her know," she told him.

They helped Walt to his feet and into the ambulance. Cady decided she would travel with him while Branch stayed at the property with the fire crew. Walt had also left him instructions to catch his horse.

 _ **To be continued...**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/n - sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. Been a busy bee lately.**_

 **Chapter 7**

Meanwhile, Vic was already on her way to Walt's property, having received the notification of the 911 call. She was driving at speed, anxious to see what was going on. Details of the 911 call were sketchy. She had not been able to reach Walt by phone. About a mile or two from the property she noticed a missed call on her cell from Cady and was about to call back, when she saw someone on the road ahead of her. As she approached, she realized that it was a teenage boy and he was not showing any signs of getting off the road.

She slowed the truck to a stop and got out. As the boy turned and faced her, she recognized him. It was Derek Gilbert. She remembered him from the time his father kidnapped her and her ex, Sean, and subjected them to heartless torture. Those awful motorcycle helmets, the concussion, the little brat swinging the baseball bat, she would never forget that. Her hand slowly lowered to her weapon as she sized him up.

But for some reason, he didn't strike her as a threat. His shoulders hunched, his clothes looking damp, he almost looked lost, not the brash little delinquent she remembered.

"Hey," she said, approaching him cautiously. "Are you okay?" she asked, still unaware of his role in what had happened at Walt's property.

As she neared him, she got a whiff of kerosene from his clothing. Then she saw what he had in his hand, a cheap, gas station, cigarette lighter.

"Derek, do you want to give me that lighter?" she asked, extending her hand, hoping he would just hand it over.

He just looked at her, his eye filled with tears.

"Come on. Just hand me the lighter and I'll give you a ride into town," she offered, hoping to dissuade him from doing something stupid.

"Tell my Mom I'm sorry," he said before flipping the lighter.

"No!" Vic yelled as he dropped the flame on his feet.

Vice ran quickly to the truck and grabbed a blanket from the back. She raced back to this kid, who was screaming in agony as the flames quickly climbed his pants legs. She tackled him, knocking him to the ground and wrapping the blanket around the flames and patting them until they were extinguished.

The boy lay on the ground, his cries a combination of frustration and pain. Vic's quick actions had saved him from, at the very least, severe injury, if not a horrific death.

"Why the hell did you do that?" she yelled at him before correcting herself and taking her anger down a notch.

"You should have let me die," he shouted at her angrily.

"Why? I mean….."

Just then the ambulance, carrying Walt on its way into town, drove around the bend in the road towards them. She flagged it down, hoping they could help the boy, unaware that Walt was inside.

"Deputy Vic Moretti," she said by way of introduction as the driver rolled down the window. "This kid needs urgent medical attention. He's suffering from burns to his lower extremities," she told them.

"We already have a patient on board," the driver told her. "Your boss in fact."

"What? Walt? Is he okay?" she asked, running to the back door and opening it.

There she saw a haggard-looking Walt, soot-faced, sitting on the gurney taking oxygen from a mask. Cady sat facing him on the opposite side of the ambulance.

"What the hell happened to you?" Vic demanded.

Cady rushed to explain what had happened back at the property so her dad could continue taking oxygen.

"Derek Gilbert?" Vic said, looking back at the kid still lying on the road. "I just stopped his suicide attempt," she told them. "But he needs a ride to the hospital."

She watched as one of the medics tended to the injured young man on the road. He administered pain relief and carefully covered the burns on his legs. There was a brief discussion with his colleague before he approached the back of the ambulance.

"Eh, Sheriff, do you mind sharing?" the driver asked Walt.

Walt didn't really care. He knew they wouldn't ask if the kid wasn't pretty badly hurt, but Cady did care. She was fuming and objected vigorously.

"Are you seriously asking him to share his ambulance with the kid who tried to kill him…twice?" she yelled. "Call for another ambulance."

Vic looked back at the boy on the roadway. Her eyes met Walt's and he could tell she was worried for the kid.

"It's okay," Walt said from beneath the mask. "I can ride with Vic to the hospital."

Cady glared at him.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"I'll be fine," he insisted.

"You can barely draw a breath," Cady reminded him.

Walt removed the mask and got to his feet. He felt a little light headed and used the walls of the ambulance for balance as he climbed out.

Cady looked at the paramedic who was standing outside.

"You're not seriously letting him do this, are you?"

"He can bring the oxygen bottle and mask in the deputy's vehicle. The deputy can drive with sirens and get him there quickly if you have concerns," he told her.

"Dad?"

"He's only a boy, Cady," Walt said, looking at the lad being treated in the middle of the road.

Cady knew she wasn't going to win the argument.

"I'll take him straight to the hospital," Vic reassured her.

Cady hugged her dad, knowing there wasn't enough room in the truck. She would have to ride up front with the ambulance driver as she didn't want to share the back with someone who tried to kill her father.

Vic helped Walt into the truck and made him buckle up. He started to cough again.

"Mask on," she ordered him.

He did as he was told. Vic turned the truck back to face town and left the paramedics preparing to load young Gilbert onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. She wanted to ask Walt exactly what had gone on at the cabin. Cady had mentioned the barn and Branch rescuing Walt. She knew fire was involved judging from the smell of Walt's clothing and the obvious breathing difficulties. She realized that Walt would fare better if he just relaxed and concentrated on his breathing. She decided not to quiz him for now. She could get the details later.

She couldn't help but worry though. He had been recovering so well from the shooting of late and this was the last thing he needed. She rested her hand on his and tried to offer reassurance. He lay his head back against the seat and tried to suppress the urge to cough again.

Vic drove at speed, anxious to have Walt looked at in the hospital. He sounded terrible and she couldn't hide her concern. When they pulled up at the Emergency Room, she helped Walt inside.

Agatha, a nurse who knew them both well rushed to their aid.

"What happened?" she asked, concerned for the sheriff.

"He inhaled a lot of smoke," Vic told her.

"Any difficulty breathing, tightness in the chest," she asked almost automatically.

Walt nodded.

"Difficulty swallowing?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Okay, let's get you in here and we'll check you over," she said, leading them both to a treatment room.

It didn't take long for Doctor Weston to appear.

"So, Walt, what trouble did you find today?" he asked with a smile, used to the sheriff coming in with various wounds over the years.

Vic explained the situation.

The doctor asked Walt to remove his shirt and he placed his stethoscope on his upper back to listen to his lungs.

"Any headache? Dizziness?" he asked.

"Some," Walt replied.

He then checked Walt's eyes, nose and throat.

"Some soot in your nostrils. I'll get the nurse to bathe your eyes, they look painful," he said, commenting on the blood shot eyes looking back at him.

He then questioned Walt about the head laceration.

"Is he going to be okay?" Vic asked once the examination was complete.

"I'm going to keep him overnight and give him some nebulizer therapy. His lungs should be okay in a few hours," the doctor told them. "Nancy, will you set up the nebulizer? He may also have a slight concussion so I'd like to keep an eye on him."

Just then the doctor was called away as the ambulance carrying Derek Gilbert pulled into the ambulance bay. Cady jumped from the passenger side of the ambulance, ignored the activity as Gilbert was unloaded, and ran into the ER looking for her father.

She was directed to the treatment room. He father was sitting inhaling from an oxygen mask with Vic holding his hand.

"How is he?" she asked.

"He's fine," Walt replied, emphasizing the he. He was growing tired of people talking about him as if he wasn't there.

Cady glared at him and then turned to Vic for an answer to her question.

"They want to keep him here overnight as a precaution," Vic informed her.

"Good," Cady said, trying to calm down a little.

She was angry. She just didn't know who she was angry with. Her dad was hurt again. She hated seeing him hurt and she hated the feeling of helplessness.

"How's the kid?" Walt asked from beneath the mask.

"I don't know. Why do you care? He tried to kill you," Cady reminded him.

"He's just a kid," Walt sighed.

"Well, don't you worry about him," Cady said, laying down the law.

Walt decided to keep his concerns to himself. He was already starting to feel better.

Eventually he was moved to a room and given a hospital gown so he could get out of his smoke and sweat infused clothes. The nurse insisted that he be left alone to rest. Cady and Vic reluctantly left the room.

Vic decided it was time to talk to Derek Gilbert. When she inquired about him, she was informed that he had been transferred to hospital in Sheridan where there was burns unit and more importantly a psychiatric ward.

Vic was furious that she had not been informed of his transfer. She needed to officially caution him and interview him. After all he had attempted to kill the Sheriff. She made some frantic calls to the hospital in Sheridan and then to the local police department to inform them that the patient needed to be placed under 24-hour guard. She was assured that the boy would be kept under guard until he was well enough to be interviewed.

Walt had a good night's sleep at the hospital. He had been given nebulizer therapy that evening and it had improved his breathing. He felt much better. Henry had called in briefly having heard about the drama at Walt's property. They chatted for a while before Agatha made him leave so Walt could rest.

The next morning, he was anxious to leave and would have walked out of his own accord only he had no clothes to wear. Cady was to bring him fresh clothes later in the morning. Vic popped in first thing on her way to work. She was relieved to see him looking and feeling better. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, much to his surprise. He glanced immediately to the door in case someone saw them.

"Relax, Walt. We're the only ones here," Vic said, sitting onto the edge of his bed.

Walt looked a little uncomfortable at the intimacy of her actions. She couldn't help but smile at him. She realized that he was never going to change. He would never be the sort for outward displays of emotions.

"They moved Derek Gilbert to the Burns Unit in Sheridan," she told him. "I'm headed there now to charge him with attempted murder."

Walt was quiet. He had been thinking about the kid all night. He didn't know why, exactly, but he felt sorry for him. Maybe it was because he knew who his father was and knew the kind of upbringing he had received. He never stood a chance at a normal life.

Vic noticed Walt's silence and wondered what was going on.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, sure," Walt replied.

"Something on your mind?" she asked.

Walt sighed.

"It was an accident, Vic," Walt said.

"What was?" Vic asked, sounding confused.

"The fire. It was an accident," he repeated.

"Eh, I don't think so, Walt. That's not what Branch said," Vic reminded him.

"Branch wasn't there," Walt stated.

"He was the one who got you out, Walt," Vic told him.

"Yeah, well he doesn't know how it started."

"Walt, what's going on with you?"

"Don't charge him with attempted murder, Vic. He'll end up in a federal prison. He'll never get the help he needs," Walt explained.

"But he tried to kill you, Walt. He deserves more than a slap on the wrist," Vic told him, horrified at the thought.

"He deserves a chance, Vic. He made a mistake," Walt told her.

"A mistake?" Vic said in disbelief, getting up off the bed. She turned and looked at Walt. "Oh, he made a mistake alright. He didn't tie you up tight enough. Or maybe, maybe he should have poured the kerosene all over you just to be sure and we wouldn't have been having this conversation," she ranted.

"Vic."

"No, Walt. I can't believe you have sympathy for this kid."

"He has issues, Vic. Sticking him a federal penitentiary won't fix them," Walt told her calmly.

Vic took a deep breath and glared at him.

"He tried to kill himself," Walt reminded her. "He's 15 or 16 years old kid and he chose to burn himself alive. What does that tell you?"

"God damn it, Walt, I don't know. I'm not a doctor," Vic said sharply.

"Please, Vic. Don't press for attempted murder," Walt pleaded.

Vic looked into his eyes and could see how much it meant to him. She considered his request for a few moments before relenting.

"Fine. I'll talk to the D.A. You and Branch will have to get your stories straight before he formally interviews you," Vic reminded him.

"I'll talk to Branch," Walt said.

"I gotta go," Vic said, placing a peck on his cheek and leaving.

Vic went outside to her truck and sat inside and pondered for a moment about Walt's wishes. At first she couldn't understand why he didn't want to see the kid feel the full force of the law. After what he had done and what Walt had suffered, she was stunned at his decision. But the more she thought of it, the more she started to appreciate his compassion.

It made her love him that little bit more.

To be continued...

 _ **A/n - I'm afraid I won't be updating for at least a month as I'm heading on the trip of a lifetime to Canada and LA. Can't wait. Will get back to my story in August...a month closer to Season 5 of Longmire! Until then...**_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N - Final chapter of my story. It deserves and ending but I was really struggling with it. Sorry for the crazy delay in finishing it. On the positive side - I had an amazing summer. Looking forward to Sept 23rd now. Longmire Season 5. Yay!**

 **Chapter 8**

A short while later Cady arrived with some clothes for her dad. He was quick to get changed as he was anxious to go home. After filling out the discharge papers and armed with a bag of prescription pills, Cady drove him home.

When they reached his property, Walt looked out from the car window at the charred remains of his barn. The roof had collapsed into the center of it and only two of the four walls remained standing. He knew it would have to be knocked and rebuilt from scratch. But he smiled when he saw his horse grazing in the paddock without a care in the world. It could have been so much worse. Walt knew how close it had been for both of them.

Cady noticed her dad drift off for a few moments and sensed what he might be thinking. She too couldn't help but think of how very different a day today could have been if they had not gotten him out of that barn on time.

Their eyes met for second and each knew what the other was thinking. Walt placed his hand on his daughter's to acknowledge how lucky he felt. Cady smiled at him and parked the car.

She got out and walked around the vehicle to help him, but he was as stubborn as ever and insisted that he needed no help. He was a little slow to get out of the car, but once he had straightened his torso up, he felt much better. They reached the cabin and Cady opened up the door.

"Are you hungry?" she asked as she entered.

"Not really," he replied. "I ate at the hospital."

"Ok, so can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks, Punk," Walt replied, genuinely grateful. "Unless you feel like taking me to the lumber yard?" Walt joked.

"Are you kidding me? You're just out of the hospital," she replied turning to scold him, but then noticing the grin on his face. "Oh, you are kidding me. Hilarious," she said sarcastically.

Walt emitted a short cough. His throat was still irritated from the smoke inhalation. Cady reached for the bag of medication she had been given at the hospital.

"Do you need some of the cough syrup?" she asked, fussing a little.

"Oh. No. It's fine. Maybe a little water. My throats a little dry, that's all," Walt reassured her.

He walked back out onto the veranda and Cady brought the water out to him.

"It's going to take some time to rebuild," Walt said as she sat beside him.

"I know, but what's a few weeks?"

"I guess."

They sat in silence for a while. Cady could see there was something on her dad's mind besides the barn.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she eventually asked him.

Walt nodded without looking at her. She worried so much about him and was afraid there was something he wasn't telling her.

"Dad, I'm worried about you. You'd tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn't you?" she asked.

"What? Oh, there's nothing wrong. It's just...me," he replied cryptically.

Cady looked at him with a confused expression.

"I'm not sure what that means," Cady told him.

"I can't seem to do anything right these days."

Cady was still at a loss as to where this was going.

"You probably heard that I don't want to press charges on the Gilbert kid. I told Vic this morning and now she's mad at me. I don't know how...," he started and then broke off.

Cady looked her father who was struggling to open up.

"I'm not doing it to hurt her," he said after a few seconds of silence.

"I get it, Dad," Cady said, understanding now what was on his mind. "But I also know why she's mad at you. She cares about you ... a lot. And the thought of someone hurting you and getting away with it is killing her. For weeks she's been hell bent on getting Ida Gilbert and her boy behind bars for what they did to you and now you're letting her son off the hook. It's hard for her to be as charitable as you. I've watched her over the last few months. In case you don't know, she's in love with you, Dad. And we both know Vic is the type of person to kick ass. She'll defend you until her last breath. She just doesn't do kid gloves."

Walt nodded in agreement.

"She'll calm down, Dad, especially when she realizes what you decided to do is what is right for you," Cady told him.

"Huh," Walt replied. "I don't know. She was pretty mad."

"Why don't you do something nice for her?" Cady suggested.

Walt looked uninspired.

"Maybe a nice dinner?" Cady suggested.

Walt shrugged a little.

"I could do that I guess, but I'm not much of a cook," he replied.

"I'll help you if you like. What about tonight? What time will she be home at?"

"I'm not sure. Seven thirty. Eight maybe?"

"Good. Leaves us plenty of time. I'll go to the store and get some groceries, maybe some wine, although you're on medication so I'll get some Cokes too," she reminded him.

"Don't worry. I'll be good," Walt told her with a hint of mockery.

"Fine, you tidy over a bit and, you know, spruce the place up," she said, smiling at the reality of giving her dad date advice. "See you in a bit."

So Cady returned to town, leaving Walt looking around the house wondering what he could do to make it nice. He remembered Martha used to take out a linen table cloth when guests were coming. He'd find that. And she sometimes used candles, when it was just the two of them.

He found the table cloth and set the table. He used what Martha used to refer to as the good crockery. He stood back and admired his work. He decided to sweep around the cabin. However, the events of the previous day had taken its toll more than he realised. He was quickly out of breath. He went outside and sat on the steps for a while, and breathed in the fresh air until he felt better.

As he sat there, he was surprised to see Vic's truck speeding up the road way towards him. He stood to greet her as she got out of the truck.

"You're early," he said as she came up the steps.

"Well, I knew you'd be home and I wanted to apologise," she said, continuing on inside.

She stopped when she saw the table set and the unlit candle in the centre of the table.

"Oh, are you expecting company?" she asked, feeling slightly awkward.

"Well, sorta," Walt stuttered a little flustered.

"Right, I should probably go then," she said, turning to leave feeling a little put out.

Walt grabbed her wrist, and she twisted around and looked up into his face.

"I was expecting you," he told her awkwardly.

She frowned, not sure what to make of his words.

"This is for me?" she finally asked feeling a slight flutter in her heart.

"Well, yeah," he said with a smile. "But there was supposed to be dinner too, and wine. Cady is gone to get the groceries. You're a bit early."

Vic smiled broadly.

"You were doing all this for me?" she repeated herself, her surprise evident. "Why?"

"To apologise."

"It's me who needs to apologize, Walt," Vic said, still looking up into his eyes. "I shouldn't have gone off at you like that. After all you've been through. I'm sorry. I couldn't understand your compassion, until I remembered that's it's what I love about you, I mean admire about you."

She tried to backtrack but Walt had heard it. Love. He realized that it was real for him too. He couldn't deny any longer the fact that he loved her. He leaned down and placed a kiss softly on her lips. She stood on her toes to meet his kiss. When their lips parted, he asked.

"Are you off duty?"

"Yeah. Why?"

He didn't answer. Instead he began to undo her belt buckle and remove her holster. He met no resistance when he removed her jacket and began to undo the buttons of her shirt. He felt her tense, just momentarily, which caused him to hesitate.

"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered.

"What? No," she replied and then he felt her begin to unbutton his shirt.

Soon her fingers were running through his chest hair. He slid her shirt from her shoulders and allowed his hands to graze her breasts. He leaned down and hungrily sought her lips once more. There was no denying his arousal. She took his hand and led him to his bedroom where she continued to undress him. She was careful, still conscious of his healing body, his scars still very evident.

She then sensuously undressed for him before pushing him down onto the bed and sliding her body over him. It was no surprised to Vic that Walt was a generous lover, strong yet gentle, every inch the man she imagined.

Their love making was passionate. Walt allowed her to take control and she gave herself completely to him. They were so ensconced in each other that they never heard Cady returning.

She arrived with two shopping bags of groceries about an hour later. She had seen Vic's truck parked outside. but when she entered the house she saw Vic's jacket thrown across the back of a chair, her work belt on the floor along with her shirt. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. Feeling a little embarrassed, Cady left the groceries on the kitchen counter. She put the wine and meat in the fridge and left a note on the table to let them know and wish them a lovely evening.

Driving away, she felt strangely happy and a little nervous. She was glad her dad had found someone who made him happy again. As his daughter, she worried about the age difference and hoped that it would not be the undoing of the relationship. And more than anything, she hoped that he would not get hurt.

She knew Vic cared a lot for him. She just hoped the pressure of their work would not come between them. They were going to have a busy few months with court cases going on and would have to try adapt their work relationship around their budding personal one.

For now, though, she decided to be glad for them both. Having nearly lost her dad twice in the last few months, she gave thanks that she still had him to worry about.

Soon it wouldn't be just him she had to worry about anymore. She wondered how he would take the news that he was going to be a grandfather. It was early days in her pregnancy but she had really wanted to tell him. Branch, however, had convinced her to wait a couple more weeks before telling anyone, and she had agreed.

Her dad's birthday was in two weeks. She would tell him then.

Grandad.

 **The End**

 **A/N - thanks again for reading folks. Enjoy the new season of Longmire!**


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